Deadly Secrets
by Anonymous Quill
Summary: After 13 years of peaceful life, Harry Potter is once again a target of the Dark Lord. But, everyone thinks that Voldemort is dead.
1. The Phone Call

1 Deadly Secrets  
  
Anonymous Quill  
  
The phone rang. Harry usually never received phone calls, especially at such a late hour. Who the hell would call him, Harry Potter, slayer of Voldemort, defeater of the darkest wizard of all time?  
  
Harry reached for the phone. He put it up to his ear tiredly, for it was 12:00 at night, or close to it.  
  
"H-hullo," he slurred into the receiver.  
  
Nothing. He said it five times into the phone. Finally, cursing, he slammed the phone back down. But it rang again.  
  
"Who the hell are you?" He shouted at the reciever. This time, after a long pause, a voice, so familiar to Harry spoke back to him.  
  
"I am surprised you do not know," it said with a menacing hissing sound. "I am back, Harry Potter." Out of fear, Harry once again slammed the phone down again. But, as soon as it disconnected, it rang again.  
  
"STOP CALLING ME YOU BASTARD!" Harry screamed.  
  
"Dad?" It was his son, James. "Ah, Dad? It's me, James. Is something wrong?"  
  
"No, sorry. Some kid kept calling here. Is there something you need?" Harry sighed. He covered that one, he hoped he did at least.  
  
"Yeah, are you sure your okay?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Well, anyway. Mom and I are on our way home. Gran says hello. We should be home shortly." That's right. Hermione and James went to see Hermione's mother. "Dad, mom wants to talk to you. Bye, see you later." Harry heard Hermione's voice in the background saying, "Give me that phone!"  
  
"Hello honey," Harry said faintly. He was hoping that Hermione wouldn't be too mad at him for yelling at James.  
  
"Did you just curse at James?"  
  
"Er…yes." Harry said. Oh great, she was going to blow. "Honey listen I…"  
  
"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO DO THAT! AND DON'T YOU BLAME PRANK CALLERS!!!"  
  
"Er… but…" Harry attempted to explain.  
  
"We will talk later!" She hung up. Oh shit, he was in trouble now. He put down the phone for the third time. He was in for it, he still had about an hour. He had learned that when Hermione was mad, she was not to be crossed.  
  
And who was that man who called him. Could it possibly be Voldemort? He was dead, as he and everyone knew and all of the Death Eaters had been long since caught.  
  
Who was he?  
  
  
  
Harry woke up at 6:00 the next morning to cold water being splashed on his face. Hermione was standing over him with an empty glass. Ice was everywhere on the King Sized bed.  
  
"Hermione, it's early, can this wait?"  
  
"No, Harry this can't wait…you sleep like a rock." She said, looking much more cheerful than she did a second ago, and definitely much more awake than he was. "Breakfast is ready. James is already up."  
  
"What normal teenager gets up at 6:00 AM on a weekend, then again, a summer weekend?" Harry asked.  
  
"James has Quiddich practice. And this family had NEVER been normal, Harry. With you for a father, how could he possibly be sane?"  
  
"Ouch," Harry said, smiling up at her. "Alright, I'll be down in a minute." Hermione turned around an left the room. She hadn't change a bit since he had first met her on the train to Hogwarts. She still had bushy brown hair and was still the smartest women he had ever seen. The only things that had really changed were her teeth, which were perfectly straight now, and her age. And maybe the fact that she was his wife and the mother of his son, James.  
  
Harry quickly got dressed, grabbed his wand and with it, cleaned up the ice that was still lying around and melting with the sun. Not wanting to make Hermione any angrier than she already was, he raced down the stairs.  
  
The kitchen smelt wonderfully like maple syrup as he entered and sat at the table, across from James, who was now stuffing his face with pancakes.  
  
James looked a lot like Harry did. He had the same untidy hair, and the same green eyes that had been seen in his family for three generations. Unlike Harry was at his age, he was tall, about 5'9. If Harry hadn't grown, he would have been way taller than him. But, he got his brain from Hermione. He was very smart, but not the bookworm Hermione was, which bugged Hermione. She wanted him to study all of his free time while he wanted to play Quiddich all of his time, free or not. James was a Seeker, like Harry. That also annoyed Hermione.  
  
"That didn't take long," Hermione said at him, leaning against the counter. Behind her, the spatula was flipping golden brown pancakes onto a plate that levitated over to the table.  
  
"And you blame me for this family not being normal," Harry replied to her earlier comment as he sat down and cocked an eyebrow at her. She blushed and smiled back at him.  
  
"Am I missing something?" James said between bites. How could he eat so much and stay so skinny? Harry figured it was another trait James had gotten from him.  
  
"James, you are going to be late," Hermione said, changing the subject.  
  
"Oh, right," he said standing up quickly. He ran to the broom closet to grab his gear. Now, the broom closet was literally a broom closet. In the back, there was the Nimbus collection; on the right were the Firebolts and Windstorms. Finally, the left wall held the newer brooms such as the Tornadoes and the latest set, the Phantoms. Also, on the floor in the right corner was James and Harry's gear. In the other corner was the oak wood chest that held the game balls.  
  
James was out in a flash with his Phantom 15 and his duffel bag full of gear.  
  
"Bye," he said as he ran out the door. It slammed shut soon after, which, like James's obsession with Quidditch, was one of her pet peeves.  
  
"He did it again," she sighed.  
  
"Hermione, he isn't you, that means he isn't perfect. Besides, he's a kid." Harry replied. She loosened up and then sat across from Harry.  
  
"He's just like you, you know," she said.  
  
"No, he's too tall," Harry said.  
  
"Harry's right. James is more like me!" someone said behind them. The door slammed, and Hermione jumped up.  
  
"Ronald Weasley, how many times do I have to tell you, do not slam the door!" she snapped.  
  
"Yes ma'am," he said sarcastically, saluting her. "Hello Harry."  
  
"Hello Ron. You know, you could learn to knock like everyone else," Harry said, shaking his head.  
  
  
  
"Then I'll loose the element of surprise," Ron said, beaming at Harry, while taking Hermione's place at the table. "How is everything at the Potter residence?"  
  
"Ron, you sound so smart with those big words," Hermione said, loose again and looking quite cheerful.  
  
"Why, thank you Hermione. I never thought I would hear you call me smart."  
  
"Well, you are smart, Ron. If you would just use your head more often…" she started.  
  
"…then I would be just like you. What fun would that be?" Ron finished her sentence, though Hermione was not planning on saying that.  
  
"My life is fun," Hermione said, "What are you saying, Weasley?"  
  
"A teacher? You call that fun, Granger?" Ron said slyly. And then it started, their routinely argument about who had the better life. Harry, getting bored easily, stared out the window. The sky was blue today, not a cloud in the sky at all. The sun was shining down on the world. He smiled.  
  
Wait, where did all of those clouds suddenly come from, he thought to himself. His smile vanished as they instantly covered most of the sky. Odd. Harry looked at them hard. The dark clouds had formed something, a shape he had known since the Quidditch World Cup when he was about 14. His mouth dropped and his thoughts were racing. The phone call. The voice.  
  
It was the Dark Mark. Voldemort's sign that all of his Death Eaters had branded on them, claiming them as his eternal servants.  
  
"Harry? HARRY!?" Ron and Hermione shouted. They were staring at him, wide eyed.  
  
"What?" He said, his gaze back out the window. It was gone. What the hell, he thought. Is Voldemort back? Could he be? Impossible.  
  
"Is there something wrong?" Ron asked, "Wait, dumb question. What's wrong?"  
  
"N-nothing," he stammered. He looked at Ron, who, as usual, looked puzzled. Then, his gaze shifted to Hermione, who looked fearful for him. She had no idea. And, she wouldn't, not her, not James.  
  
"What happened?  
  
"Nothing," he repeated. She sighed and crossed her arms. "Hermione, it's nothing."  
  
"I hate your secrets Harry, you know that," she said crossly. "Fine, keep them. But, Harry, if you are that scared I…"  
  
"I was NOT scared," Harry demanded.  
  
"Harry, secrets don't make friends," Ron said, still looking puzzled. Suddenly, they heard a noise in the parlor. Hermione, walked away and soon came back.  
  
"Someone called you through the fire, Harry," she said calmly. Shit. What if was the same person who called him, what if it was Voldemort. 


	2. Faces in the Flames

Deadly Secrets  
  
Faces in the Flames  
  
Anonymous Quill  
  
  
  
Harry slowly walked into the parlor as Ron and Hermione followed him curiously. The fire was blazing and dancing in the fireplace. Harry looked in, but didn't see Voldemort's hideous face. Not even a Death Eater. It was an old friend; Harry sighed with relief, for it was Sirius Black, his godfather.  
  
"Hello, Sirius," Harry said; now smiling.  
  
"Hello Harry, you look a bit preoccupied, did I catch you at a bad time?" He asked. As usual, he was concerned for Harry's well being. Ever since they met, Sirius had always looked out for him, and he was always grateful for it.  
  
"No, not at all," Harry replied. "So, how are you?"  
  
"Fine, nothing exciting here, how about you? Those muggles giving you any trouble?" By this, he meant the Dursleys, who were always asking him to make them things, mainly money.  
  
"No, I threatened to use magic on the lot of them, so, I think I have finally gotten them off of my back.."  
  
"That's good news. So, I was wondering, Marrysa and I would like you to come to dinner Saturday." Marrysa was his wife of twelve years. They didn't have any children of their own, but they did adopt Chinese orphan named Chou, who had already graduated from Hogwarts. Hermione liked her because she was like her, too smart for her own good and James looked up to her because of her talent in magic, and as a Chaser on the Quidditch field.  
  
"We'd love to," Hermione said, "Hello Sirius."  
  
"Hermione, good to see you again," Sirius responded. "Anyway, come around noon if you would. I have to go now, but it was good to talk to you all again."  
  
"See you on Saturday," Harry said cheerfully. Then, Sirius's face vanished into the dying flames. Harry stood back up and turned to look at Hermione and Ron. Hermione wasn't smiling anymore though.  
  
"So, Harry," she started, "What caught your attention in the sky?"  
  
"Er…well," Harry said nervously. What could he say? Hermione, I saw the Dark Mark and I have reason to believe that Voldemort might be alive and might be targeting me…again. Yeah right. He couldn't, she would be terrified. "Nothing."  
  
"Oh sure Harry," Ron said, still confused, "Keeping secrets from your own wife. Shame, shame."  
  
"Stuff it, Ron," Harry muttered, walking past him and back into the kitchen. Hermione and Ron quickly followed.  
  
"Harry, we are just concerned. We could help if we knew what was…" Hermione started, but Harry couldn't stand this questioning.  
  
"It's nothing, alright," he snarled. Hermione stopped her sentence and stopped asking.  
  
"Er… well, I should go," Ron said. Though he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, he knew when to come, and also when to leave. He walked to the door, left, and made sure he didn't slam it so Hermione would be happy.  
  
Hermione looked back at Harry. "Harry, tell me what you saw."  
  
"Is that an order?" Harry asked quietly.  
  
"Harry, please," she said. He looked at her. He should be able to tell her anything, but this would do more damage than good.  
  
"Hermione, can we talk about this later?" Harry asked, hopefully way later.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because James is coming home. I guess while we were talking to Sirius it started to rain, then hail. Practice must have been cut short. Besides, the clock says he's coming home."  
  
Ever since he had visited the Weasley house, the Burrow, Harry had wanted the clock they had. On each hand, there was a family member's name on it. The hands point to what that person was doing. Well, his may not have as many hands, but it was useful. And sure enough, James was running towards the door, soaking wet, dodging rather large chunks of hail.  
  
"Fine, we'll talk about this later," she said. Suddenly, she was right in front of him, "And we WILL talk about it." She then calmly walked toward the door, used a charm to dry off James and then let him in the house.  
  
"Dad, are you okay?" James asked. "You look, er, worried."  
  
"I'm fine. How was practice?" Harry smiled, trying to look happy.  
  
"It was great until the hail came. I dove for the snitch, you know, but instead, I caught a piece of bloody hail instead. That was when we decided to call of practice for today." James said. Harry and James talked about Quidditch constantly, but now, he wasn't in the mood to talk at all. "Dad, you sure your okay?"  
  
"He's just thinking about that dinner we planned with Sirius," Hermione said. Was she covering for him? Well, thank you Hermione, he thought because soon, James was talking to her about the dinner rather than prying him. Prying? No, James wasn't "prying" him at all. He was just concerned.  
  
"I'll be upstairs, mum," James said, after hearing all he wanted to know about the dinner plans. He got up quickly and raced toward the stairs.  
  
Harry looked at Hermione, who was looking at him curiously. Then, he got up and went back into the parlor.  
  
The parlor was probably the smallest room of the Potter house. It had a built in bookshelf along two of the walls; the fireplace on the third, with pictures of loved ones above it. A big window with a view of the sun set in the evenings was on the forth wall. It was Hermione's favorite room. Harry went to the bookshelf and pulled out an old book. Hagrid gave it to him a long time ago and it was filled with pictures of his parents, the family he never knew. Voldemort killed them, and he could kill him too.  
  
But he can't be alive. Harry killed him in his seventh year at Hogwarts. He had faced him like his father did, but he lived. He always lived, the Dark Lord could usually kill anybody he wanted, but from one year old, Voldemort could not kill him. But now, he could kill not only him, but also his family.  
  
If he actually lived.  
  
  
  
Hermione tried to talk with him again, but he stayed shut. She tried from nine o'clock to ten. Finally, she gave up and went to bed, but Harry couldn't sleep. He was up, looking at the old photos again. His mum and dad, killed by some ruthless maniac who never deserved the title "Lord" even if dark proceeded it.  
  
Harry stayed up, looking at photos for a long time, and, before he knew it, the clock chimed twelve o'clock AM, and he wasn't tired, even though he hadn't slept much the night before.  
  
Harry flipped the page back to his parents wedding picture. They looked so happy. It reminded him of his own wedding. That was one of the happiest days of his life, he thought. Hermione was stunning in her wedding dress. Heck, she would look good in a sack, but, like she would ever wear a sack. He was lucky to have her.  
  
Then, something ruined his train of thought.  
  
The fire went ablaze, the flames almost singed him and the photo book. Harry jumped back in alarm, someone was calling him, at midnight.  
  
"Who the hell calls someone at this hour?" he asked, quietly, making sure not to wake up Hermione or James.  
  
"I do," hissed the voice. There wasn't a face that he could make out, but, he knew it was a Death Eater, the same person who called last night. Harry calmed down, not wanting to wake Hermione and have her see this.  
  
"What do you want?" Harry asked, "Why are you calling?" Harry was sweating nervously. Obviously, the person could see him, because he started to laugh. That laugh, Harry had heard it before, many times, and he despised it. It was high pitched and cold. Voldemort. "Voldemort?"  
  
The laughter continued briefly, and then, when it stopped, Harry asked again.  
  
"Voldemort? Are you Voldemort?"  
  
Pause. Then, the voice said, "Yes, Potter, I am back." That was his next question, or close to it.  
  
"But, you, you're dead," Harry said, panicking even more than he was.  
  
"You and I are the only ones who know that I am still alive. You lied to the rest." The voice laughed again. "You did not kill me all those years ago. I am back, Potter."  
  
The flames roared and then died again. The face was gone, Voldemort was gone. Harry stood there in disbelief. So it was true, he was out to kill him yet again. Maybe now it was time to tell Hermione.  
  
"Harry, we need to talk." 


	3. The Truth Hurts

Deadly Secrets  
  
Chapter 3  
  
The Truth Hurts  
  
  
  
Hermione was leaning against the wall, looking at him. She had seen it all, probably had been watching him for two hours.  
  
"Harry, is You Know Who, is he still alive? Tell me," she asked, almost begged. She walked over and sat next to him, putting her arm around him.  
  
"Yes," he said quietly, "He is still alive."  
  
"How, you killed him, seventh year. I remember, you said so to the…" she paused. "Harry, did you lie to them?"  
  
  
  
…Harry lifted his wand and pointed it at the pitiful wretch that was Voldemort. He had finally won, and now he was going to finish the job. Voldemort was panting in pain. Harry had hurt him. Good, he thought, now he can go back to hell where he came from.  
  
Voldemort looked up at him, those pitiless red eyes full of anger and hatred toward him. Harry felt the same way about Voldemort. Who cares if the curse is forbidden, Harry thought, holding his wand, pointing it at Voldemort's face, that snake like face.  
  
"Avada Ker…" Harry began loudly. But then, Voldemort vanished with a cloud of green smoke.  
  
"I'll kill you someday…" Those words echoed off of the walls. Over and over, Harry heard them in his mind.  
  
His thoughts were racing. How did he do that? He could barely lift his wand, he had no strength for Disapparation. He was still alive. Shit…  
  
  
  
"Yes," he said finally. That night. He had blocked it out of his mind for a long time, years. "Yes, I lied to them. I wanted it to be over."  
  
"Harry…that means…he's out there, ready to kill again?" Hermione was panicking now, just like he was.  
  
"He wants to kill me," Harry said quietly. Great, put more cheerful thoughts in her head. Stupid choice that was.  
  
"Harry, what are we going to do?" He looked at her. She was pale, as pale as a ghost. Beautiful, but very pale. "If anything happened to you…Harry, I love you."  
  
"Hermione, he hasn't succeeded yet, what makes you think he'll do it now?" Harry said, sort of smiling now.  
  
"What do we tell James?" Hermione asked. Good question, Harry thought. But, the answer was simple.  
  
"Nothing." Harry said.  
  
"But, Harry I…"  
  
"Nothing," Harry repeated. And that was final. James was just a kid; he didn't need to worry. Then again, Harry had to worry about Voldemort at that age, and that was hell. Why make him worry?  
  
"If you're sure," Hermione sighed. "He should know though."  
  
"Later. For now, we say nothing. Understand?" Harry asked.  
  
"Yes," Hermione said quietly. She then got up, looked down at Harry, and then walked into the kitchen, shaking. Harry got up and followed her. He had to comfort her.  
  
  
  
James watched his dad walk into the kitchen after his mum. He had heard it all, every word. Well, if they weren't going to tell him anything, why should he tell them anything? But, on the other hand, his life and his families might be at risk. The one night he ever came down stairs for water, he hears this. Well, at least he knew.  
  
James quietly walked up the stairs, opened his door and went into his room. It was decorated with Quidditch posters, banners and any other Quidditch thing he could find.  
  
James slipped into bed and stared at the ceiling. Voldemort, alive? And also, why wouldn't his mum say his name? He thought people weren't afraid of Voldemort anymore. Weird, that she of all people would be afraid, she faced Voldemort before, helped his dad face him. Maybe that's why she was afraid, she had seen his true power and terror. But was he really that powerful?  
  
Questions like those came through James's mind that night, he couldn't sleep at all. In the morning, he was so tired that he almost fell asleep at breakfast, and after, he skipped Quidditch practice. He slept all of that Saturday, so Hermione canceled dinner with Sirius. The whole family was tired and worried, so she had good reason. James watched his dad go into the parlor to check the fire and his mum keeping in eye out the window. It was so disgraceful to see the famous Harry Potter so edgy. And the next couple of weeks would be the same, James thought. He was right. The Potter house was quiet and preoccupied. Good thing his mum only thought that he was worried for them and didn't know the truth about things. Sure, he was worried for them, but he was more worried about Voldemort. Could he be a target as well as his dad? Could he and his parents be killed? 


	4. The Girl at Flourish and Blotts (The Cha...

Deadly Secrets  
  
Chapter Four  
  
The Girl at Flourish and Blotts  
  
(The Challenge)  
  
  
  
Two weeks later, the Hogwarts school year was getting even closer. They were all still on edge. James, now having to study on top of everything he knew, Hermione, getting ready for a year of teaching Transfiguration again and Harry, practicing charms and spells every chance he got so he would be prepared for anything or anyone who might try to hurt his family.  
  
"Harry," Hermione said as she came down the stairs into the basement. Harry was practicing charms, and he was quite powerful. "Harry, we need to get out of the house."  
  
"What?" he asked. "Why?"  
  
"James, he is terribly worried about us, and we are over our heads…"  
  
"I thought nothing was over your head, Hermione," Harry said, smiling at her. She laughed a little, but soon was serious again.  
  
"Besides, he needs to get his new supplies. The owl came with the school list." Hermione looked at him and held out a piece of parchment.  
  
"You've got a point," Harry said, stopping his charms and turning completely to face her. "You always have one, but that's beside the point." She smiled. He smiled back at her.  
  
"Thank you. So when do you want to go?" she asked as they both walked to the couch.  
  
"Dunno, tomorrow sounds good," Harry answered as they sat down next to each other. Hermione put her arms around him in a tight embrace.  
  
"What is this for," Harry said, hugging her back.  
  
"I love you, Harry," she said. She looked up at him and smiled. He then kissed her lightly on the lips.  
  
"What was that for?" Hermione said, mocking him obviously.  
  
"I love you," he said. She smiled at him.  
  
"How touching," James said, mocking them both. Harry and Hermione both turned to see him leaning against the wall. He was smiling at them, the first time he really smiled for weeks. "Get a room."  
  
"Hello James," Hermione said.  
  
"We had one until you invaded it," Harry said. "James, someday, you'll be kissing girls…"  
  
"But not too many," Hermione cut in.  
  
"I know, I know. Mum, I'm not going to sleep with too many either," James said, smiling as he turned and headed back upstairs.  
  
"Good boy… wait, TOO MANY? JAMES!" Hermione yelled, going upstairs after him. Harry laughed as he too walked upstairs. God, he had the best family in the world, he thought. What would he do without them?  
  
"JAMES POTTER! WHAT DID YOU MEAN?"  
  
"Mum, calm down, it was a joke. You know, what normal people would think was funny," James said to her. If there was one thing James was good at, it would be bugging Hermione. Well, Harry couldn't forget Quidditch either.  
  
If Voldemort laid a hand on them, Harry would really kill him for it.  
  
Even if he didn't, Harry was still going to.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
The Potter's walked down the street of Diagon Alley. It was packed with witches and wizards. Harry had never seen the place so crowded.  
  
"So, dad, now what do we need?" James asked Harry as they approached the bookstore.  
  
"Books, let's head in here," Harry said. The family went into the store, Hermione the most excited because she loved books.  
  
James looked at the shelves, finally spotting the Standard Book of Spells (Grade Five) by Miranda Goshawk. He went over and grabbed a copy.  
  
"So, you a fifth year too?" someone asked behind him. He spun around to see a girl, a little shorter than him staring at him. She had short hair that only came to her ears. It was brown, but had streaks of purple in some places, which James thought looked cool. She wasn't pale, but she wasn't tan either, she was at a happy medium. Around her neck hung a necklace with a dragon around it, which she had showing over her black robes. But, the most interesting feature was her eyes. They were bluish green and her pupil was a spiral that seemed to go forever. She was smiling at him.  
  
"Jjin," she said, holding out her hand. He took it politely. "Don't tell me, you're the Potter boy, James, aren't you?"  
  
"Yes, how did you know?" he responded. Jjin grabbed a copy of the Standard Book of Spells (Grade Five) and then looked at him again, smiling deviously.  
  
"How could I not? You are famous. I've seen your picture in the papers. And, I've also heard highly of your Quidditch skills. Won the cup every year in and out of school, huh. Well, sorry to break that streak, but this year, I am just going to have to steal that title you hold. I also play Seeker."  
  
"A challenge. Very well, I accept," James replied mockingly. Yeah right, like she could ever beat him.  
  
"You're on English boy," she said haughtily, turning toward the counter.  
  
"And what are you?" he asked. He had wondered why she didn't have an accent. Jjin turned around and looked at him.  
  
"New York. I'm from the states." Jjin then turned around and strolled out of sight. Who does she think she is, James thought. He was the best Quidditch seeker of his age, probably better than some people older than he was.  
  
"Looks like you have competition," Harry said, coming up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "She is cocky."  
  
"Tell me about it. Where's mum?" James asked him.  
  
"Reading every book in the store," Harry said, shrugging. James looked over his shoulder and saw his mum reading a book. She loved books a little too much, it wasn't normal. But, neither was being stalked by the dead Dark Lord. This must be as good as it gets, James thought.  
  
  
  
That night, Harry couldn't sleep, he hadn't been able to for a long time because of fear and worry. He laid on the couch in the living room, starring at the ceiling, thinking. At least that girl, Jjin, gave James something other than his parents to think about. Hermione had teaching to keep her mind off things, but he didn't have anything. He had a job, and Aurora, but he didn't have anything to do until he was called, and there wasn't much going on, so that didn't help at all. But, if someone called, that would most likely mean Voldemort was on the move, trying to get at him, so, either way, he had to think about it.  
  
James also couldn't sleep, and like his dad, he was starring at the ceiling, thinking. But, he was thinking of the mysterious girl at Flourish and Blotts, Jjin. Who was she, and why was she going to Hogwarts? Also, he kept wondering how she thought she could beat him? She must be good if she'd say that, but, how good was she? James thought that he should train, like he did everyday, but harder than he was now. His team already won the Division Championship Quidditch Cup, but they still practice because they all play at their schools, (some of them go to Dumstrang and Beaxbatons). He had to beat her, and beat her hard. Her challenge made him hate her, she was a rival and there was no room for friendship, he thought. He was going to crush her, he thought, smiling and sliding off to sleep. 


	5. Threats From A Well Known Stranger

Deadly Secrets  
  
Chapter Five  
  
Threats from a Well Known Stranger  
  
  
  
The summer flew by too quickly for Harry. Hermione was planning lessons, James studying and training for Quidditch. Harry watched them prepare for the year ahead at Hogwarts. No one from the Ministry called him and he was bored out of his mind. Nothing from Voldemort. Why was he so quiet? He must be planning something terrible, Harry thought.  
  
And then the train for Hogwarts came. Hermione was already at the school; she didn't want to embarrass James in front of his friends, and especially his enemies. That would give them bait that nobody wanted them to have. It was just Harry and James in the car driving to King Cross Station that day.  
  
The car was quiet, an eerie silence that made the spine tingle. Harry had to break it.  
  
"Excited?" he asked James. James looked at him, breaking his steady gaze out the window.  
  
"Er…I guess," James shrugged. Harry could tell that he wasn't excited at all.  
  
"Hey, cheer up. You'll get to play Quidditch and see all of your friends again. I bet Jayson Weasley is excited." Jayson was Percy and Penelopy's boy, Ron's nephew. He was James's best friend and had been for a long time. He was a Chaser on the Gryffindor team. Jayson, though, didn't have anything in common with his father. To Percy's disliking, Jayson was like his uncles; Fred and George, even a bit like Ron. On the other hand, Fred and George loved that and brought it up to Percy whenever they could. They now ran a joke shop in Hogsmade that outsells Zonkos even.  
  
"Yeah right," James said, looking back out the window yet again.  
  
"When I was a boy, I was excited to go to school," Harry commented.  
  
"However, you lived with muggles who hated you. I live with a wizard and a witch, who by the way teaches Transfiguration," James said back to him.  
  
"I know what your mum does for a living," Harry said, "But you do have a point. So, would you rather stay home with your boring old dad?"  
  
"You have a point." The car once again grew silent. Harry hated it for two reasons. The first was that it made him nervous and the second was that it meant that James either didn't want to talk to him or that they had nothing to talk about.  
  
Harry pulled up to the King Cross Station. He parked the car close to platforms nine and ten. James grabbed his things and Harry helped him with his school trunk.  
  
"I'll walk you to the platform," Harry said, and that wasn't a suggestion either, but James didn't mind.  
  
"Dad," James said, still standing by the car.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Er…you know that conversation you had with mum?" he asked.  
  
"Well, that's a good question, I have a lot of talks with your mother," Harry said. He wondered what James wanted to tell him.  
  
"Never mind," James said as he started to walk toward platform nine. Looks like Harry would never know what James wanted to say. Probably wasn't that important anyway.  
  
"Oooh! Mum, look! It's Harry Potter!"  
  
Harry turned to see a girl pointing at him. She probably was a first year.  
  
"It's rude to point!" the mother scolded. Now, every witch and wizard in the station looked at him and at James. Harry was used to people gawking at him by now, but the attention annoyed him.  
  
They walked to Platform 9 ¾ silently. James met Jayson there and they both vanished. Just like that, Harry was alone. Hermione and James were both gone at Hogwarts, which meant they were safe. Good, he thought. Now, he only had to worry about himself getting hurt by Voldemort. He had done it before, but not for a long time.  
  
Harry walked back to the car, people still watching him, waving, smiling.  
  
"Didn't he defeat He Who Must Not Be Named?" he heard people asking. If they only knew that he was a fraud, what would they think? Oh, look, there goes that no good Harry Potter. Yeah, wasn't he the one who lied to the people all those years back? Harry could just see it now. Hated, that's what he'd be. Hated, and then killed by Voldemort, who the unsuspecting people thought he had killed.  
  
Why did he feel like he was being watched?  
  
  
  
Harry had the whole two-story house with a basement to himself. He watched the television muggle news for a while. It was the same depressing story, someone stole this, and two people murdered there, nothing exciting. Then he had some tea and went outside to get a bit of fresh air. He had quite a boring life when he wasn't working, but when he was, it was both stupid and pointless or a bit too dangerous for Hermione and his liking.  
  
Harry sat there, literally staring into space. The stars were brightly shining that night and the moon was full. The whole world was quiet, no animals moving and not even a light breeze to set motion to the scene.  
  
Harry suddenly heard a twig snap and then the crunch of a footfall. He bolted up and then stood, drawing his wand and pointing it toward the blackness of the forest that he lived right next to. Someone was out there and he knew it. Whoever it was, he knew they shouldn't be there.  
  
Where are they, he thought. He looked around the backyard, but there wasn't any motion. Maybe they had an invisibility cloak, or maybe he was delusional, but, Harry kept his guard.  
  
Then, his shoulder suddenly felt a sharp and piercing pain. Harry felt the blade slide deep into his shoulder. He turned around quickly to see a person wearing a mask and black robes. Harry cursed in pain as he took a step backward. The man raised a wand and pointed it right at Harry's head.  
  
"Crucio," he said. A jet of red light issued from the, what Harry suspected, Death Eater's wand. It struck Harry in the side of his head, because he had tried to dodge the attack.  
  
Harry fell to the ground in immense pain from his whole body. He must be screaming loudly. Someone might hear. They had to, just had to. Harry knew that he was going to die, that Death Eater would kill him or take him to Voldemort. He felt the hilt of the knife collide with his head, and everything turned to blackness.  
  
  
  
Harry woke up in a hospital. He was lying in a bed facing a television that was on. The muggle news, he thought. But wait, his picture was flashing on the screen. He tried to make the words under it, but he didn't have his glasses on, so he just listened.  
  
"…victim of a near fatal attack, the man, now identified as Mr. Harry Potter. He was found at about 12:00 last night." The reporter was a woman and she definitely was not a witch. He could tell because she said his name like he was just an ordinary person.  
  
"We're here with on of his close friends, a Mr. Ron Weasley. Ron, who do you think could have done this?"  
  
Sure enough, to Harry's surprise, Ron was standing there talking to the reporter women. He smiled and said, "It wasn't me."  
  
Harry laughed. What did he think he was doing? Oh well, it was highly amusing.  
  
"Of course, but do you have any ideas who it was?"  
  
"No, Harry didn't have any enemies," Ron said. Lie, Harry thought. Harry had a lot of enemies. The interview went on until Ron finally backed out, saying he wanted to see Harry.  
  
A nurse walked in and saw that he was awake. She was very shocked.  
  
"M-mr. Potter! You are awake!" she exclaimed. She looked friendly enough. He sat up, but she shook her head. "You should rest Mr. Potter. Your friend is coming to see you, a Mr. Ron Weasley."  
  
The door opened. Ron fell into the room, and Harry saw reporters trying to make their way in to see him also. Ron shut the door with some struggle. Then, he turned to look at him.  
  
"I didn't do it, Harry, honest," Ron said, walking toward him and smiling.  
  
"You are such a liar, Ron, and no shit you didn't do it," Harry said, laughing at him. "Sit down." Ron did as he was told. He sat to the left of Harry's hospital bed.  
  
"Harry, are you okay? How could you let some Death Ea…" Ron started. Harry quickly jerked his head toward the nurse, who was carrying a small box over to the bed.  
  
"Mr. Potter, here are the things that we found on you," she said. The nurse set the box on Harry's chest and then walked off. He then took the box and looked inside.  
  
There were some galleons, sickles and knuts, his wand, which Harry wondered what the muggles thought of that one, and then he saw a rolled up piece of parchment inside. Harry picked it up, unrolled it and read to himself. Ron looked over his shoulder and also read.  
  
  
  
Next time, it will be James. Watch your back, Potter, for someone lurking close to your family may be against you.  
  
There wasn't a signature. But, some of Harry's blood was on various parts of the parchment. Ron's mouth dropped in horror. Harry looked up to see the nurse looking at them curiously. James, next? And who was the traitor?  
  
Meanwhile, James was having a great time at school. 


	6. The Train to Hogwarts (Disturbing News)

Deadly Secrets  
  
Chapter Six  
  
The Train to Hogwarts  
  
(Disturbing News)  
  
  
  
James and Jayson looked at the train once again.  
  
Jayson had light brown hair like Penelopy's, and not the usually red found in the Weasley family. He was also tall, about the same height of James. He had green eyes, but not as bright as James or Harry's. He used to wear glasses, which made him look nerdy like his dad, but now, he wore contacts. He was pretty good looking.  
  
"Woohoo, Hogwarts," Jayson moaned. "I wish I was home schooled rather than dealing with Snape."  
  
"Who's Snape?" a familiar voice said behind them. James and Jayson spun around. Jjin, James thought.  
  
"Oh, you," James said rudely. A man appeared behind her. He glared at James, and James shuddered.  
  
"Me," Jjin said. Jayson looked at her oddly.  
  
"Did you know your hair is purple?" he asked rudely. James recognized this as Jayson's way of teasing.  
  
"And that's bad?" she asked.  
  
"Jjin, you should put your things on the train," the man said. James thought that he was Jjin's father. He was very tall, maybe over six feet. He had cold black eyes that were looking at his daughter with no expression of love or caring. He had brown hair like Jjin's. Jjin kissed his cheek and he smiled down at her. James already knew that he didn't like him, the rudeness and coldness must be a family thing. Well, Jjin isn't cold, sort of cute, but rude. James and Jayson watched Jjin take her things to the back compartment, their compartment.  
  
"You, stay away from my daughter," Jjin's father said.  
  
"Or what?" Jayson blurted out rudely. The man gave him a nasty cold look. Then, his gaze was back on James. "You watch your back Potter." The man then disappeared. James and Jayson looked at each other.  
  
"You shouldn't have said anything," James said to him. Jayson shrugged and they walked to the back compartment.  
  
Jjin was sitting there, reading a book. She's as bad as my mum is, James thought.  
  
"This is our compartment," Jayson said.  
  
"Oh, where's it written," she said coolly, not even looking up from her book, which had a Latin title. "There is still room. Why can't we be friends, James?"  
  
"Hey, why am I being ignored!" Jayson shouted. "What's up with your family and ignoring me?"  
  
"I'm sorry, um, what's your name?" she asked sweetly. For the first time, she looked up from her book at Jayson. He looked back at her.  
  
"I'm Jayson Weasley," he said. "Jjin right?"  
  
"Yes," she replied, "Strange, my father told me the Weasley family had red hair."  
  
"Well, I'm special," Jayson said. "Why did your dad name you after an alcohol?" She looked at him coldly.  
  
"For the last time, I don't know! Every time I introduce myself to someone, that question always seems to pop up! Sorry, it gets annoying after a while, you know."  
  
"No, I don't," James said coldly to her. Jjin looked at him and smiled.  
  
"Are you going to sit down? The other compartments are all full."  
  
"Might as well, James," Jayson shrugged. James reluctantly sat down, but as far away from Jjin as possible. He didn't want to be her friend. He couldn't; otherwise, he would feel bad for crushing her like a bug in their Quidditch match.  
  
The train then started to move toward school. Another year of torture was the next stop.  
  
Suddenly, the door burst open and a blonde girl came in. They all looked up.  
  
"Jjin! You are going to Hogwarts too?"  
  
Malfoy, James thought. She was in his year, and, to her father's disliking, she was in Ravenclaw rather than Slytherin. Also, she was one of the sweetest girls anyone could meet, unlike her parents. Harry and James both found that funny. She had light, light blonde hair like her father and mother and she had light blue eyes. She was usually smiling broadly. The one thing that James would change was her crush on him that she had had ever since first year. Her name was Soelia (Soul-ee-a) Malfoy.  
  
"Yeah," Jjin replied. "Good to see you again, Soelia."  
  
"So, how do you know Jayson and James?" Soelia asked.  
  
"Oh, I just met Jayson today, but I met James in Diagon Alley." James looked at her coldly. Why couldn't he stand her, he didn't even know, but something about her bugged him. He felt like he couldn't trust her.  
  
"Hello, Soelia," Jayson said, smiling at her, "How's your father?"  
  
"Oh, the same as usual. He wants me to change houses…again and wants me to hate you all too. Dad says that he still hates your father and you."  
  
"Thanks for that information," James said. "But it's always the same. Why can't Mr. Malfoy just except that you are different."  
  
"He can't," Soelia said, shrugging. Soelia sat down next to Jjin. They started talking about school, and Soelia explained the houses and the teachers.  
  
"…listen, Jjin, watch out for Snape. He's the potions master and he is mean. He is nicer to me than most students because he liked my father." Soelia explained, "Anyway, he favors Slytherin because he's the head of that house. He hates James," she added, looking at James.  
  
James and Jayson were talking about Quidditch. Jayson was a Beater like Fred and George, which also bothered Percy. Jayson was on James's summer team too.  
  
"…this year, I've heard the team that will probably the hardest to beat is Ravenclaw because they have a really good, new Seeker." Jayson started. James looked at Jjin.  
  
"Where did you here that?" James asked, looking back at him.  
  
"Oh, well, I have my sources," Jayson said, looking at him curiously, "Why do you ask?"  
  
"Jjin plays Seeker," James said quietly. "Hey Jjin, what house are you in?" Jjin looked at him and smiled.  
  
"You are talking to me now?" she asked, then smiled, "Ravenclaw. I was sorted by Professor Black yesterday. He brought the hat to me. He spoke highly of you. Why?"  
  
"He's my dad's godfather," James answered.  
  
"Oh, well, he's a very nice man. And he teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts."  
  
"I've heard that he's the longest lasting DA teacher Hogwarts has ever had," Soelia added. "Snape hates that." Soelia giggled.  
  
After that, the girls and the boys kept to themselves on the train ride. James thought that it lasted too long, definitely longer than usual. Night set in as the train approached the school.  
  
Once again, the castle loomed before him. Great, James was stuck there for another year. James, Jayson, Jjin and Soelia got off the train together and into one of the horseless carriages. To James disliking, he sat across from Jjin, who was trying to talk to him the whole way. There was just something he couldn't stand about her. Anyway, they finally made it to the castle, which was a good thing because they were all starving.  
  
The Great Hall was lit up by hundreds of floating candles. The enchanted ceiling was a dark blue like the night sky. The tables were set with the golden plates. It sort of felt good to be back, even though it was school.  
  
His mum sat at the staff table next to Sirius, who were both waving to him and Jayson. James looked down at the ground. Every year it was the same. It was like it was their goal to make him the least popular student at Hogwarts. The first year when he had a question in Transfiguration, his mum called on him saying, "Yes honey?" Everyone just stared at him. Well, she never did that again. It was interesting having your mother as a teacher, mostly embarrassing. Sirius wasn't as bad. He treated him a little better than the other students, but he never called him "honey" or embarrassed him. He called him James, not Potter though.  
  
Snape sat at the other end of the table. He hated his mum and Sirius, and now, he also had James to take his anger out on. That's why James hated Potions class. He still had greasy hair that came to his shoulders, and he still had cold menacing eyes. Next to him, sat the Herbology teacher, Smith. She was a nice old lady who James pictured had a garden with all sorts of plants. Any muggles who saw it must be shocked at the Venomous Tentactles and others.  
  
In the center, sat the Headmaster. He was a younger Headmaster, just a little older than Harry. His name was Oliver Wood. James liked him because he played Quidditch. He was smiling at them all.  
  
As soon as everyone was seated, the doors opened once again. The Charms teacher, Artemus Figgle, a middle aged man who was very kind, led in the First years.  
  
The sorting was long and boring. James clapped for the new Gryffindors and the rest of the time sat there, bored out of his mind.  
  
After the sorting, Wood gave the speech welcoming the First years to Hogwarts, warning about the Forbidden Forest and starting the banquet.  
  
Finally, food, James thought happily as his plate filled with pork roast and potatoes.  
  
Jayson looked up at James, "This is great," he mumbled happily as he jammed more food into his mouth.  
  
James nodded as he dished up on potatoes.  
  
The feast soon ended and all of the people were sleepy. James yawned as they walked up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. It was the same as it had always been, Hogwarts never was exciting. If only I had my dad's cool life, James thought as the approached the portrait of the Fat Lady.  
  
"Everyone, the new password is Draco Dormines," the prefect, Chelsea said to the First years. The Gryffindors all tumbled into to the fire-lit common room.  
  
Jayson and James headed to the boy's dormitories sleepily. They slipped into their pajamas and then got into bed. They slowly nodded off to sleep.  
  
  
  
"James, James, wake up, James," someone whispered above him as they shook him gently. James groaned and looked up. It was his mum.  
  
"It's late," he muttered as he looked at the clock. It said 1:00 AM. "Mum, what is it?"  
  
"I need to talk to you, now!" she said panicking. James sat up and looked at her.  
  
"Okay, I'm coming," he yawned, stretching as he got up. He followed his mum into the common room. They sat down next to each other. His mum was pale and looked very scared and nervous.  
  
"James, I just heard that your dad has been attacked," she said. Now he was awake.  
  
"What? Attacked? When?" he said, shocked.  
  
"An hour ago," she explained, "I knew we should have told you. Harry said no, but I think that you should know about…"  
  
"Voldemort, he's alive. I heard that night," James said. Great, I'm in trouble, he thought miserably to himself.  
  
"You knew this whole summer?" his mum asked.  
  
"Er…yeah," James said quietly.  
  
"I'm glad, I thought you should have known all along." James sighed with relief. She wasn't mad at him. She stood up and he did too. His mum then hugged him tightly. "Harry is in the hospital. Ron found him and told us to stay here. Everything will be fine, so don't worry about it," she said stroking his hair. "Now, go back to sleep." His mum let him go and walked out of the common room. She was shaking a little which was not pleasant to watch. Like James would be able to fall asleep that night.  
  
  
  
That morning, everybody stared at James when he walked into the common room. James felt awkward when they were. He sat down next to Jayson, who was also looking at him.  
  
A first year came up to him and she asked, "Is your dad gonna be okay?"  
  
How did they know? Surely the paper hadn't come yet to them, and if it did, he didn't know if the story would even be in there.  
  
"Er…" James said, puzzled. The whole common room was silent and everybody was waiting to hear his reply. What was he going to say?  
  
"Is You Know Who really alive?" someone asked. James was shocked. Where the hell did they hear that? No one knew except the Potters.  
  
Suddenly, to his relief, his mum came in. That broke everyone's looks at him for a second.  
  
"James, we need to talk," she said, grabbing his hand and half dragging him up to the empty boy's dorm.  
  
"Mum, they all know! How do they know?" James asked. "Did you tell them?"  
  
"I think one of the students overheard our conversation last night. Anyway, Ron just called and said there was a note. It said that…should I tell you this?"  
  
"Yes, go on," James said, eager to know.  
  
"It said…that you…well…are next," she stuttered. James went a little pale. Him? Why? He was surprised that his dad wasn't dead yet. But, why waste time by taking him?  
  
"Oh, right," he said faintly. His mum hugged him tightly again. She kissed his forehead even though it bugged him when she did.  
  
"Be careful, honey," she said.  
  
"Don't call me that," James replied. She let him go and they both walked out to the common room. They saw a lot of kids sitting by the door.  
  
His mum left the common room quickly as Jayson came up to James.  
  
"I HEARD!" a First year boy screamed to the whole common room. "YOU'RE A TARGET FOR YOU KNOW WHO!" Everyone looked at him again. Some girls came up to him and were acting worried. A quiet murmur started up in Gryffindor common room.  
  
Great, now everyone knew. 


End file.
